Fire, Lightning, and Stars
by Amethyst M
Summary: The Winchester brothers go up against the Leviathans. Spoilers for season 7. Story #8 in my AU series.
1. Chapter 1

**Fire, Lightning, and Stars**

**Chapter One**

Bobby's house in Sioux Falls was one of the few places Sam could have pictured in enough detail to teleport an entire group of people. Needless to say, that particular angel power worked. The place seemed downright weird without Bobby being there, Sam thought. Since his death, it just felt lonely. But it would be a little less lonely with five people in it for the time being.

Sam had changed out of his hospital clothes in the short time they had been there. He was now wearing jeans, sneakers, and a black T-shirt.

A fine layer of dust had gathered in the kitchen. An empty bottle of Jack Daniels sat on the table. A spider had chosen to spin a web inside of it. Dean picked it up and threw it in the trash.

"Okay, what's the plan?" he asked, sitting down. The old chair creaked.

"We have what we need for the spell," Castiel said. The angel glanced around. "This place needs a little cleaning." He vanished and reappeared a moment later with a bottle of cleaning solution.

"Good thinking. We might need that against the Leviathans," Sam said.

"I think it's better these two stay here," Dean replied, gesturing to the FBI agents. "They're less likely to get hurt."

Agent Smith cleared his throat. "You know, we do have some experience in the field."

"How about with magic?" Dean asked.

"Not unless you count David Copperfield."

Dean chuckled. "Nope, but I'll let you in on a secret. Some of those guys do use real magic, but you'd never know it unless you knew what to look for."

"Right," said Agent Smith. "So we're just stuck here?"

"Unless you can figure out a way to do more damage than with squirt guns and cleaning solution."

There was a knock on the door. Dean stood up and looked through the peephole. It was a delivery man from the postal service. "Package," said the mail carrier.

Dean opened the door. "Hello?"

"This is for Dean Winchester. Are you him?"

Dean looked a little astonished that he hadn't been recognized, for once. Apparently the mail carrier did not pay attention to the news. "Uh, yeah," he replied.

"Great. Sign here, please."

As he leaned over to sign the electronic pad, Dean noticed that Chuck Shurley's name was on the box. He took it from the mail carrier, said "Thanks," and closed the door.

"Who's it from?" Sam asked.

"Chuck," Dean said in amazement. He set the box on the table, took out a pocketknife, and cut it open.

Inside the package was a dagger shaped very much like a lightning bolt, and a note. Dean read it aloud. "Zeus lost a poker game to me the other night. Thought you could use this. Good luck. P.S. The cat could use a new home, if you're willing. I'm going to be away on business for a while."

Dean took out the dagger and immediately it lengthened into a sword. Tiny blue sparks danced along the blade and vanished. The blade was made out of that strange blue metal that Sam and Dean had seen inside Atlantis. The grip of the hilt was made out of ebony. A sapphire was near the top of the hilt.

"Wow," said Agent Smith. "Is that really…?"

"Yeah," Dean replied, grinning. "This is awesome."

Sam nodded. "We should really get going. We have a spell to cast, and we should cast it in New York since that's where Roman's Leviathan was last seen."

"Great," Dean said. "How are we going to get there?"

"Angel Airways, boarding now, no peanuts served on flight," Sam said.

"We'll see you when you get back," Agent Daniels replied. "Go kick some ass."

Sam nodded. He, Dean, and Cas linked hands.

"Ready when you are," Sam said, looking at Castiel.

"I can take you both," Cas said. "Just hang on."

With the flapping of angel wings, they vanished.

In New York, it was a sunny day. People were going out on their lunch breaks. Cars honked; drivers swore and flipped each other off. Yep, that was normal New York traffic. Cas, Sam, and Dean appeared in the middle of an alleyway.

"Do we want to be anywhere in particular for the spell?" Sam asked.

"This will do," Cas said. "And we will attract less attention here." He set the backpack of ingredients out. There were two vials of blood and a handful of red feathers.

"Okay, now what?" said Dean.

"Repeat after me," Cas said, and began to chant in Enochian.

Neither brother spoke Enochian fluently, so they simply repeated Castiel to the best of their ability. Halfway through the spell, the vials of blood exploded into purple flames, and the blood was vaporized. The feathers from Sam's wings likewise burst into purple flames and then vanished. There was a moment of dead silence when Cas stopped chanting. Then, the wind began to gust and dark clouds appeared on the horizon.

"What exactly did we just do?" Sam asked.

"This will summon the Leviathan leader to us. After that, we will slay him and send his soul back to Purgatory," Castiel replied. "You see, I have something from my Father, too." He held out his hand, and in it was the Orb of Seven Stars. "He sent it to me when Sam was in the hospital. I believe that I am supposed to use it on the Leviathan."

The orb appeared at first glance to be made of pure light, but it was really solid gold. It did, however, glow yellow. There were seven points of light all around it which glowed with a bright white light, as opposed to the yellow. They were the stars.

"Okay," Dean said. "I think you win." He held up Zeus' sword.

Castiel nodded. "Of course I win. Good always wins."

"Right," Dean replied.

"Where exactly is the Leviathan supposed to appear?" Sam asked, looking around.

The sky was growing darker. People on the street had noticed and were starting to head indoors, perhaps thinking that it was a sudden thunderstorm.

"Yo. this is weird," said one guy walking by the alley. He had a food cart full of hot dogs.

"Hey can I have a couple of those?" Dean asked. "I haven't eaten since breakfast."

"What? Sure, two dollars…" the hot dog vendor's voice trailed off as he saw Sam standing there, too. "The Winchester brothers? Oh crap." He glanced up at the sky. "Some real bad shit's going down, ain't it? Is it the aliens?"

"Look, we're about to go and fight a serious bad guy. Can we please have a couple of hot dogs before we die?" Dean asked.

"I would like one too," Castiel said.

"Okay fine, three hot dogs," Dean said, reaching into his pocket for another dollar.

The hot dog vendor sighed. "All right, three hot dogs. Should be going inside?"

"That's probably a good idea," Sam replied.

The hot dog vendor handed them the food, and then took off running with the cart.

"This is really good," Dean said, biting into his hot dog.

"Yeah, but where's the Leviathan?" Sam wondered aloud, and quickly wolfed down the hot dog.

The answer was a booming roar that shattered a few windows. Sam, Dean, and Cas looked up. A serpentine shape with wings hovered in the brooding sky, its eyes red with fury.

"Winchesssstersssss," it hissed.

"Well well," said Dean. "Look what the cat dragged in."

"I remember you," said Cas.

"Cassssstiel...thanksssss for breaking ussss out of Puragtory. Unfortunately, you will die, along with your pet monkeysssssss."

"I am not a monkey," Sam shouted.

"No. You are only part monkey now," the Leviathan replied, hissing angrily. "Come on, Sssssam. Take me if you can."

Sam glared at the Leviathan, and then flew up. He launched a blast of hellfire at the Leviathan, which caught its tail as it swerved to get away.

The Leviathan turned around, opened its mouth, and out blasted a cone of green fire. Sam teleported before the Leviathan could hit him. The green fire hit the building across the street. Sam used cold fire on it so it would not spread.

"That's all you got?" he shouted.

Castiel grabbed Dean and teleported behind the Leviathan. Dean took a swipe at it with the lightning sword. Blue sparks flew everywhere. The Leviathan managed to dodge some of it, but caught some sparks on its already burning tail.

As the Leviathan turned around, Dean brought up the sword again to block it. The monster unleashed a cone of green fire, but the lightning surged as the fire hit the sword. A field of energy surrounded Dean and Castiel, and the green fire was absorbed by it.

The angel let loose with a ray of pure light, but the Leviathan soared higher. As it flew, it bellowed. On the street below, a dozen onlookers in the crowd opened their mouths and serpents flew out of them. The bodies crumpled to the sidewalk as people next to them screamed and ran away.

"Oh crap," Dean said.

One of the serpents snatched up a fleeing pedestrian and swallowed him in one gulp. The pedestrian's girlfriend or wife turned around and flipped off the serpent.

"Screw you, alien scum!" she screamed.

"Get out of here," Sam shouted, hurling a fireball at the creature.

She turned and ran.

Cas fired rays of light at the lesser Leviathans. Dean swung at any that got close. He managed to lop the head off one. It dropped to the ground with blue sparks dancing all over it.

Sam hurled one fireball after another, but most of the Leviathans were too fast. Finally, in frustration, he went into fire form. This included his wings. He could not both concentrate on making the wings invisible and being in fire form at the same time.

"Eat this," Sam shouted, and punched one of the nearby Leviathans with a flaming fist. The Leviathan went hurtling head-over-tail as it burned, but recovered just in time to avoid crashing into a building.

"Not spicy enough," Dean remarked as he and Cas teleported to avoid two Leviathans.

"I can turn up the heat," Sam said. "I'm just trying to avoid collateral damage."

"Screw the buildings. Turn up the heat," Dean said.

Sam began to glow brighter. In Cas's arms, Dean could feel the heat even from 20 or so feet away. Sweat poured down his face as he swung at Leviathans. Blue sparks and golden flames danced everywhere as shadows darted in and out. The fire stank of brimstone. Somehow, Dean realized that he was not being harmed by the flames.

"It's all right," Cas muttered. "I am protecting us both."

"Oh good," he said.

And then, someone in the crowd below shouted, "Look!"

Dean could barely see through the haze as he tried to look. He saw several brightly glowing forms approaching, but that was all he could make out.

"Please tell me that's the cavalry, Cas."

"Yeah," the angel replied. "It's the cavalry."

"Oh, thank Chuck," Dean replied.

As the Winchester brothers fought on, there was a blinding flash of light from where the glowing forms were. The crowd gasped, as all but the main Leviathan squealed in pain. Dean swung the lightning sword at the main Leviathan, aiming right for the eye. He drove it down. The Leviathan screamed.

Castiel held up the orb. The stars on it shone bright gold, making it appear that they were floating in the palm of the angel's hand, and that the orb itself was simply the light from the stars. It was quite the optical illusion.

There was an all-too-long moment of silence. After that moment, the main Leviathan grinned. "You think you have won, but you cannot destroy me, only imprison me. I will escape again."

Then there was a blinding shockwave that came out from the orb itself, spreading and enveloping all of the Leviathans. Sam felt himself get pushed backward. Castiel took the force of the explosion, protecting Dean, but both felt to the ground.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

_Sam_ was Dean's first thought. That was followed by _ouch, _and then he realized that he was touching angel wings.

"Sam?" he croaked. As Dean slowly opened his eyes, he could see that a crowd of people had gathered around him.

"Just me," Castiel mumbled in response. "Your foot is on my wing."

Dean moved his foot. "Where's Sam?"

There was no response.

"You know, my brother, the guy with the big red wings and super powers?" Dean asked.

"It's been almost 20 minutes and he hasn't been seen," said a short middle-aged man with glasses.

Dean slowly got to his feet and tried to help the angel up, but Castiel wasn't getting up.

"I think I broke everything," he said.

"What about the orb?"

"Here." Castiel slowly opened his hand, revealing the no-longer-glowing orb. "Oh, that hurts."

"I have some aspirin," a woman replied.

The angel chuckled. "I'm beyond aspirin. But thanks, anyway."

"Are you an alien?" the woman asked.

"No, I'm an angel."

Dean sighed. "They're not supposed to know that, Cas."

"Oh. Well, uh, in that case, I'm an alien. From uh….Pluto. You know, that dog in the Walt Disney movies? I loved those movies. The man was a genius, for a human." Castiel sounded wistful.

"You kind of suck at lying," a young boy said.

"He doesn't exactly have a lot of practice at it," Dean said.

"Dean, I have more practice than you think." Castiel attempted to sit up, but winced in pain as he did so. "I still can't move."

"Should we call 911?" An older man asked.

"Will they try to give me aspirin?" the angel inquired.

"Probably," said the older man.

"Then no," said Castiel. He closed his eyes.

"We need to find Sam," Dean said. "Come on, Cas. Get up, or I'm going to have one of these people dial 911 and you can be a government test subject. Give me your hand."

The angel reached out.

"Ok, I could use a little help. Someone get his other side, and try not to step on the wings," Dean said.

A younger man came to help.

"Ready? One, two, three."

Castiel was hauled to his feet. The crowd applauded. He immediately started to lurch, but Dean put his arm around him. "Okay. Let's get you someplace safe, and then we'll start looking for Sam."

"There's a hotel a couple of blocks that way." Someone pointed.

"Ok, sounds good," Dean said. "Thanks."

He and Cas haltingly walked the two blocks. The angel was too much in pain to make his wings invisible. That apparently required concentration on his part. It seemed as if everyone was staring. Dean tried to ignore them.

He knocked on the hotel's main door. "Hey. Anyone home?"

The hotel door was opened by a tall, slender woman with dark hair. Her eyes widened as she saw Castiel's wings and recognized Dean.

"Dean Winchester?"

"Yeah. We need a room. Now. Is there an elevator? I'm not hauling him up the stairs."

"Right this way," she said.

As he helped Castiel into the elevator nearby, Dean wondered just where Sam was.

Meanwhile, at the bottom of a very large crater, Sam sat up. His wings were visible, which meant that he must have been unconscious for some time. He looked around and could not recognize the area. From the smell of salt in the air, he figured that he must be by an ocean of some sort. Confirming his suspicion was the sound of seagulls crying in the sky above. There was a dock nearby. Hearing a vehicle approaching, he quickly made the wings invisible.

It was a police car. The window was rolled partially down. He could see a woman officer inside. She had red hair done up in a bun. She was in her late twenties.

"Hello," said a woman's voice.

"Hello," he replied.

The police car pulled over to the side of the road. The red-haired woman rolled the window down.

"Are you okay?" She could read his mind, but asked the question anyway, since he was an outsider. "Who are you?"

The question took Sam completely by surprise. He would have thought that he was the most recognizable person on the planet by now. "My name's Sam Winchester."

"Like the rifle?" she inquired.

"Yeah," he said.

"How'd you get here?" she asked.

He glanced around. "I'm not really sure. Where is here?"

"Refuge Beach, Florida."

Sam looked stunned. "Florida?"

Officer Sharon Jeffries looked at him quizzically. "You were expecting someplace else?"

"Uh…I was just in New York. Maybe you heard it on the news?" he said.

"News?" she repeated as impossible images flashed through his mind.

"Yeah. My brother and I were fighting the aliens…" Sam's voice trailed off as he realized the police officer was looking at him like he was completely crazy. Was it possible that the orb's blast had sent him to an alternate universe? "Never mind. I'll uh, just get out of your hair."

"Aliens?" she asked in disbelief.

Sam thought fast. "My brother and I play video games online. We're total gaming geeks. There was a competition in New York." This was, hopefully, a more rational explanation.

"I see." Sharon was still looking at him strangely. "So what made the crater?"

"That I don't know," he answered.

"Can I give you a ride to town?"

"No thanks," he answered, not trusting her one bit. What if he and Dean's counterparts in this universe were wanted by the police? "I'll walk."

He was definitely odd, she thought, as he walked away from her police car. She waited until he was out of earshot and picked up her cell phone. "Jack. Yes, it's Sharon. Get me everything you have on a Sam Winchester, like the rifle."

A few minutes later, the information appeared on her Blackberry Playbook. Sam Winchester was dead as of 2009, self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head. Oddly enough, he had aimed straight for the frontal lobe. Sam had an older brother named Dean. It was Dean who had found the body. Since then, Dean Winchester had been in and out of jail and gotten a DUI. Currently Dean was unemployed, though he had done construction work in the past. It seemed as though Sam Winchester had actually come from an alternate universe as his thoughts indicated, and it was likely no accident that he had ended up in Refuge Beach.

This was not just any small town. Many of Refuge Beach's inhabitants were either humans with psychic ability, partial humans like the weres living on the edge of town, or the few "vegetarian" vampires. They drank animal blood. Just harming humans was punishable by banishment into the outside world, where the supes could be hunted down. Major crime in Refuge Beach was almost unheard of, until recently. A bizarre string of murders had begun, and all of the victims were supes except for one, a little girl. And now, the sudden appearance of Sam and the crater was too unusual to brush off as yet another weird thing happening lately.

Sam walked the two miles to town. It wasn't that bad, really. There was a cheap-looking hotel that read Pink Flamingo $25/night. The pink building looked like it had seen much better days.

As he walked in, he was greeted by a woman with an elfin face and long brown hair. She looked to be in her twenties, but wore an old-fashioned ivory lace dress. Her ears, he noticed, were slightly pointed. She was wearing pink sunglasses, which was odd because the room was dimly lit with fake candles and glowing pink neon flamingo signs.

"May I help you?" She spoke with a slight accent, which sounded vaguely European, but Sam couldn't place the country.

"Uh, yeah. One room, please," he said.

"Excellent. For how long?"

"I'm not sure."

"You can pay me daily, but please let me know by noon on the day you are going to check out."

"Ok," Sam said, and handed her twenty-five dollars.

"This way," said the unusual woman.

He followed her up the stairs. The fake candles flickered as she walked past them.

"I'm sorry; I didn't catch your name?" Sam asked.

"You may call me Isabelle," said the woman. "And you are?"

"Sam Winchester."

"Excellent," said Isabelle. She had led him to a room labeled 213. "I hope you enjoy your stay, Sam."

Room 213 was decorated in old, faded Victorian furnishings. There was a fireplace. Sam wondered if all of the rooms had fireplaces. There was a bookshelf with old, musty books on the side. There was also an antique mahogany roll top desk with a black rotary-dial telephone and a matching mahogany chair.

He picked up the phone, just to see if it worked. It did indeed have a dial tone. Sam opened the desk to check it out. Oddly enough, there was a piece of paper inside. He took it out.

"B: Town is very weird. Checking out library tomorrow for info on Hilda. J." The date was twenty-five years ago.

The writing was familiar. He had seen it in his father's journal. It seemed that even in this universe, his father had been a hunter. Perhaps he was still alive? Sam resisted the temptation to look for him. It might be disastrous for his father to find out that his son was other than human, and not even from the same universe. But he had stayed in the same hotel room twenty-five years ago. The connection was too much of a coincidence, even for Sam. He pocketed the note.

"Chuck? Are you listening up there?" he asked.

There was no response, not that he had expected one.

Sam sighed. A hot shower would be good, after everything he had been through lately. He went into the bathroom and closed the door.

Officer Sharon Jeffries sat across from the Tina, the blonde vampiress who ran the night club known as "Shadow Dance." She wore a black T-shirt, skinny jeans, and black high heels. Tina was in fact 95, but she didn't look a day over 19. She also made it a point to dress young so that she could pass for human. Not all of the humans in Refuge Beach were in the know. The cleanup crew made sure there was never any proof. "So you did not see anything on the night Simone was killed? Was anyone new in here?"

Tina looked thoughtful. "One of the weres came in. He doesn't often come into town, but I don't think he did it."

"What's his name?"

"I believe it was Charlie."

"Thanks," Sharon replied.

Tina nodded as the police officer left. She trusted few humans, let alone the gifted ones. Sharon had proved her worth though, a few years ago. There had been a group of young hunters in town looking to slay some easy vamps. She'd forgotten their names. Sharon had gotten the police to trump up a bunch of charges on the hunters, forcing them to leave town or be arrested on sight. Since then, the vampires had been more than willing to provide information as needed.

Tina's cell phone rang. She picked it up. "Hello?"

"It's Isabelle. You wanted to know if a Winchester ever came to town," the half-Elven woman said.

"Yes."

"Well, there's one here now. His name is Sam."

"Thanks," Tina said. She walked over to her laptop and brought up Google search, and typed in Sam's name. An old newspaper article from 2009 had him found dead in a bar with a bullet in his head. He was indeed a Winchester, though. How had Sam survived a gunshot wound to the head? Or was something else at work here? Perhaps one of them had made a deal with a crossroads demon? Well, she would find out, sooner or later. She always did.

Sam got out of the shower and put on his jeans. He opened up the closet. There was nothing in it except for an extra pillow and a fire poker. He picked up the fire poker, but it wouldn't budge. That was weird. Curiosity got the better of Sam, and he pushed on the fire poker. A hidden panel in the back of the closet slid open, and it revealed a very old suitcase. Sam took it out.

Inside the suitcase, folded up, there lay an old brown suit, a white shirt, and a navy tie. There was also a gun, a Colt 45, but not _The Colt._ Sam picked it up. It had been his father's. He was sure of it, though why his father had left it here of all places was completely strange. Well, Sam's T-shirt had not survived the explosion very well, so he put on the white shirt. It fit perfectly, which was also weird. Sam decided to follow up on the lead in the note and check out the local library. He wondered if his father had found what he was looking for.

The librarian was a man, though he was very short and stout with a gray beard and wore old-fashioned spectacles. He also wore pants, a white shirt, and a red bowtie. He did not have an accent, but spoke in a whisper, which was probably a habit. "Greetings, young man. May I help you?"

"Yeah. I'm looking for information on a woman named Hilda. Does that ring any bells?" Sam asked.

The librarian blinked in surprise. "Got a last name?"

Sam shook his head. "I'm afraid not."

"Hmmm, then you might be looking for a needle in a haystack. Any particular reason why you're looking for this person?" inquired the librarian.

"I'm writing an article for a magazine on local histories. Apparently, she was a person of interest oh…about twenty-five years ago," Sam said.

"Ah, that Hilda," the librarian said. "She was murdered. It was a rather gruesome affair, as I recall."

"Was the killer ever caught?"

"Yes. He paid the ultimate penalty. I can get you the microfiche if you like. It was in the local newspaper at the time, and even made the Miami Herald."

"Certainly," Sam said.

He was beginning to get the same feeling that his father had. Something was off about this town. He glanced around the library. It was quiet, even for a library. A young woman was reading a book at a table. She wore a black Harry Potter T-shirt that read simply "I am up to no good", jeans, and had long brown hair. Sam decided that perhaps he could get some information while he was at it.

"Hello," he said approaching her.

She nearly dropped the book she was reading.

"Oh, sorry," Sam said. "I didn't mean to scare you."

She looked embarrassed. "It's okay. I'm always reading. The name is Daisy." She said her name like she hated it.

He smiled. "Well, I'm Sam. I'm just visiting. Maybe you can tell me some things about this town?"

She squinted at him as if she was seeing something he didn't. Before she could open her mouth, the librarian came back.

"Mr. Winchester, I found the microfiches. The machine is right over there." He pointed.

"Thanks." Sam nodded. He sat down at the reader.

After a brief minute of scrolling, he found the article. "Grisly Discovery in Back Yard Barbecue. After a 4th of July picnic at a local campground, the Johnson family returned the next day to find a body in their grill. It was reported to the police. Chief Wilson is investigating."

Could his father have been after wendigos? Sam wondered. He kept checking the microfiches.

He found an answer in the Miami Herald, dated a year later. "Killer Sentenced to Death for Refuge Beach Murder." Scrolling down, it turned out that the murderer had, in fact, been a cannibal. But there was no indication of anything supernatural, which often was the case. Instead, the article blamed satanic cults, drugs, and heavy metal music for the murder – all too typical of the news media.

Someone had found the killer. Had his father helped? At least, the mystery had been solved. Checking the recent edition of the local paper, Sam discovered that there had been a string of murders lately, after a twenty-five year silence. None of them appeared to be of a cannibalistic nature, however. But it was interesting that they were happening twenty-five years to the day of the last murder. Sam tapped his finger against the desk. Had Chuck sent him here to solve this murder? He resolved to go to the police department, even though it was against his better judgment.

"Hi, I'm looking for an Officer Jeffries," Sam told the officer at the front desk.

"Your name?" the officer asked.

"Sam Winchester."

"Just a minute." He picked up the phone and pressed a speed dial number. "There's a Sam Winchester here to see you. Okay." He looked up. "You can go in."

Sharon Jeffries approached cautiously as Sam entered the main lobby. "I see you managed to find a clean shirt."

"Yeah. There's something you might want to know," he said.

"What's that?" she asked.

"I think the murders that are happening now are somehow connected to the murder twenty-five years ago," he said.

This had been her suspicion as well, but she wondered if he had more pertinent information. "And how exactly do you know this, Mr. Winchester?"

"My father came here to investigate the murder twenty-five years ago."

"Was he a detective?"

"Uh…not exactly." _Don't say it,_ he thought. _Too weird…this whole place is too weird._ Sam glanced around. The police station seemed normal. That was good, at least.

"Sam, what did your father do?"

"He was a…kind of freelance investigator. Look, even you have to admit there is something weird about these murders starting up on the anniversary of the other one."

"And you're a freelance investigator too?"

_Don't say hunter. She knows something's up. _"More like a contractor."

"I think we need to talk," Sharon said. "Come on." She took him into an office and closed the door.

_Not good,_ Sam thought. _Definitely not good. What had his counterpart been up to?_

"You need to start being straight with me," she said. "I know you can't be who you claim to. Sam Winchester is dead."

The shocked look on Sam's face told her everything. "How?"

"Suicide. Shot to the head. Frontal lobe, to be exact. The brother found the body."

_Oh, crap. How much had that messed up this universe's Dean? _ Sam thought.

"A lot," Sharon replied, making him wonder if he had accidentally spoken out loud. "And no, you haven't." She pointed to her head. "See, you aren't the only one around here who's different."

"I…uh…" he stammered. There were an awful lot of expletives he wanted to say.

"Watch your mouth."

She reminded him of Missouri. "Sorry. Look, it's complicated," he said.

"Lots of things are complicated. Just tell me who you really are."

"Okay. I'm Sam Winchester. I have proof, even." He reached into his pocket, took out his wallet, and pulled out the FBI ID. "I'm from another universe."

She looked amused. "So the FBI's jurisdiction reaches into parallel universes?"

Sam looked slightly embarrassed. "No. I'm either here accidentally or because someone wants me here. Probably a little of both."

"Accidentally?"

"My brother and I were fighting aliens. Well, they weren't aliens exactly, but the government told the public they were aliens because it was easier than the truth, and they didn't want panic in the streets."

"What happened?" she asked.

"We used a magical device to beat the Leviathans. I think the backlash sent me here."

"Leviathans?"

"Yeah, they're very old creatures," Sam explained. "They're older than anything in existence, except maybe Death."

"And now you're here."

"Yeah."

"Interesting turn of events," Sharon said. "How would you like to be a paid consultant, Sam?"

He looked surprised. "Really?"

"I could use someone like you around here. We don't have many gifted people on staff. There are a few weres and me, but that's about it. Most of the supes don't want to have anything to do with the police. I can't say I blame them, the way they've been treated."

Sam looked surprised. "Weres? You know they kill people, right? They can't control themselves when there's a full moon."

"The weres are very strict about it within their own community. They apparently have gained a certain level of control of their abilities, more so than most. They don't allow weres from the outside in for that reason. Any supe who kills a human is banished from the town. Since they're safer here than most places, the rules are enforced. No one has been banished in the past 20 years."

He nodded. "Are there any hunters in town?"

"Besides you? No. We typically run them off or have the vamps charm them, or one of the half-Elves do a memory spell. Don't worry; the vampires in town don't eat people. They stick to cows, horses, or deer in the woods."

"Okay. One thing though. If I take this job, I can't use my real name," Sam replied.

"Right. I'll help you with that," Jeffries replied.

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Aren't fake IDs illegal?"

Officer Jeffries looked at him with a quirky smile. "How am I supposed to explain you being the only zombie in existence with a pulse?"

Sam nodded. "I see your point."

"Excellent. I'll get the paperwork."

She disappeared into the other room. A few minutes later, she returned with a lengthy file. Sam looked at it closely. There were no signs that it was anything other than normal paperwork, so he signed it.

"Great. Thank you. Now, for the record, Sam Smith will be your name while you're here." She gave him a fake ID.

"Okay," Sam said.

"This is a standard job application form. Please fill it out."

She handed it to him.

"Since you're staying here, I'm going to give you a form that will ask some personal questions. Please be as honest as possible. We won't release it to anyone. However, we do require that all people with abilities register and abide by the rules." He nodded as she gave it to him.

He filled out the first one in five minutes. The second one was not so easy to fill out. Species? He had to check other since there was no option for him. He was not a vampire, werewolf, half-elf, or dwarf. Gifted human might have fit back when he had his psychic abilities, and that was all he had. It didn't fit now. The abilities question had a single line. He ran out of room. Emergency contact? Well, he could not fill that in, either. He finally handed it to her with a bemused expression.

"Let's hope the actual government never gets wind of supes, because Chuck help us if they have to list us on a census form."

Officer Jeffries laughed. "Who's Chuck?"

Sam realized his error. "A friend."

"Okay," she said. She handed him a computer printout. "I've already interviewed these people, but I want you to go back and see if you can find anything I missed, especially the last one. That's the family of the human girl. I have a feeling they're the key to this whole thing."

He nodded. "Will do."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Meanwhile, Castiel lay on the bed in the hotel room. Dean got him a glass of water.

"Thanks," the angel said. "You don't have to stay here with me."

"Yes, I do."

"Dean…"

"No buts. You rest. I'll figure out where Sam is."

Dean got his cell phone out and dialed. He got a "phone number not found" error on the screen.

"What the..?"

Castiel looked quizzically at him.

Dean explained, "It's saying it can't find Sam's phone. It's never done that before. Something's wrong."

The angel's brow furrowed. "I think I know what happened." He held up the orb. "When this went off, there was a shockwave."

"Yeah. So?"

"The shockwave was a backfire. I think it sent Sam somewhere else."

"Where?"

"I don't know, and I don't have the juice to find out right now."

Dean sighed. "Awesome." He glanced up at the sky. "Hey, Chuck? Anyone home?" There was no response. A frustrated Dean sat down. "I guess we wait until you have the juice, then."

"It'll be at least a couple of weeks," Cas said. "I've never used the orb before. My Father tested it once, but that was millennia ago. "

Dean's cell phone rang just then, but it was not Sam. It was Agent Smith. "Hello?"

"Is everyone all right?"

"I'm fine. Cas is hurt. I don't know where Sam is. Cas thinks he got sent somewhere, and we don't know where. His phone isn't working, wherever he is."

"All right. Stay where you are. We'll come to you."

"Okay."

Dean hung up and looked at Cas. "My brother had better not be in Hell again. He barely made it through the first time."

"I don't think he's in Hell," Cas said. "This is a Heavenly weapon. A backfire from it wouldn't send someone to Hell. But I don't think he's in Heaven, either."

"So, where is he?"

"That I don't know."

Dean sighed. It was going to be a long wait.

Meanwhile, Sam was checking out the local bar, the Silver Bullet. The bartender was an older man with sharp green eyes and gray hair. He wore jeans, a blue and yellow plaid flannel shirt, and black leather boots. He also wore around his neck a silver bullet on a long leather cord. There were some sort of engravings on the bullet, but Sam couldn't see them clearly from where he was standing.

"It's a bit early," the bartender said. "We don't open for another hour, technically. Name's Murray. What can I do for you?"

"I was wondering if you can tell me anything about what happened on the night of June 2nd."

Murray's eyes narrowed. He sniffed the air. The newcomer was definitely not normal. He smelled fire, brimstone, and electricity, along with a strange ethereal scent that he had never smelled before, as well as a human scent. The combination was so incongruent that he wondered how it could exist on the same person. "You're not a typical cop. In fact, you're not typical at all, are you? But you're working with them."

Sam nodded, wondering why Murray was sniffing. Was the bartender a werewolf?

"Uh huh. Well, I don't have anything to tell you that I haven't already told the lovely Officer Jeffries, so beat it."

"Wait," Sam said. "Let me see your necklace."

"Why?"

"I think I recognize one of those engravings."

Murray looked a bit surprised. "Elder Futhark runes. You're familiar with them?"

"A bit," Sam said.

Murray took off the necklace. "Let's see what you make of this."

Sam inspected it. Now that he could see it up close, he recognized the runes. "These two are protection. That one is for healing." He gave it back.

The bartender put it on. "Most cops don't bother learning these. What made you decide to?"

"I take on the special cases. Got to know what you're dealing with. I'm more of a consultant, though, not really a cop."

"That explains it. So, mister supernatural specialist, let's see if you can piece this one together. All of the murder victims but one had something in common. What was it?"

Sam realized that Murray was trying to determine how much he knew. "They weren't human," he said.

"Good. You're not working with blinders on. Now, in a town full of supes, who kills eight supes and one human little girl? It's not someone who just hates supes, cause the little girl's family was new and they had no idea what was going on."

"How new?" Sam inquired.

"About three months," Murray replied.

"Her parents were both human? They weren't hiding anything?" Sam asked.

"Jeffries checked them both out. They're squeaky clean," the bartender insisted.

"They're not related to anyone else in town?"

"Now that, we don't know."

"Anything else you want to tell me?" Sam asked.

Murray was looking at him curiously. He couldn't figure out what exactly the newcomer was. The smells didn't make any sense to him. The newcomer was not a normal human; that much was apparent. "Are you planning on sticking around?"

"I don't know for how long. I'm not really supposed to be here. I'm not even sure how I got here," Sam replied.

"Ah. I take it magic was involved, then?" Murray asked.

"Just a little," Sam said sarcastically.

"I see," the bartender said. "Come by this evening. We've got a full moon special. The bar is closing at 8 though, for obvious reasons."

Sam nodded. So the bartender was a werewolf. "Will do. Thanks."

This had not been entirely a loss. Sam thought if he came back, he might be able to get more information out of Murray. But it was time to interview the couple who had lost their daughter. They were probably the key to this whole thing.

The little white house sat in the middle of a wooded area. It was not in the main part of town at all. Sam walked up to the door and rang the doorbell.

The woman who answered it was a short, plump woman with curly brown hair. She was wearing a denim dress and appeared to be middle-aged.

"Hello?"

"Yes, Mrs. Anderson. My name is Sam Smith. I'm working with the police." He showed her the ID that Officer Jeffries had given him.

"Please come in," Mrs. Anderson said.

"Thanks." Sam noticed the home was decorated modestly. He could smell something baking in the oven. He didn't see anything out of the ordinary, at least not at first glance.

"As I've already told Officer Jeffries, I don't know why anyone would have wanted to hurt my daughter." A tear ran down Mrs. Anderson's eye. "She wouldn't have hurt a fly, and neither would we." She took a seat, and Sam followed her lead.

"Of course," Sam said. "Ma'am, I need to ask…you're fairly new in town, right?"

"Yes." She sniffed.

"Why did you come here? There must have been a reason."

"We wanted to raise our daughter in a small town close to the ocean, and this seemed like a perfect fit."

"So you didn't know anyone else here before you came?"

"No."

"I see." Sam racked his brains, trying to think of something that wouldn't have been asked before. "What do you and your husband do?"

"My husband is a computer programmer. I paint." She gestured to a painting on the wall of a castle. There was a red dragon in the sky and lightning all around it. "I get good money for my art, when it sells."

Sam nodded. "Any interesting relatives?" he asked.

"Not really. Mine are all deceased except for my mother, who's in an asylum. My husband has only got a sister out West in California. His parents died in a plane crash when he was 19."

"Mind if I take a look around?"

"Be my guest."

The house was small and looked like it had been built at least 50 years ago, if not more. The Andersons had taken out most of the carpeting and left the original wood floors visible, with just a few rugs for comfort. It was oak wood. He went from room to room, and found nothing out of the ordinary.

Finally, in the study, he noticed a few occult books on the shelves. How this had escaped the cops' notice, he didn't know. Perhaps they didn't know what they were looking for. The desk was made of pine and was an antique. In the top drawer was a journal. Sam took it out and flipped through it. There was nothing overly strange. In the bottom drawer though, he found an antique brass mirror with some carvings on the back. He took the mirror.

He left the study and returned to the living room. "Is this yours or your husband's?"

"It's my husbands. It belonged to his mother. What do you need with it?"

Sam looked at her. "There's something about this mirror. Do you mind?"

"No, but…what this has to do with my daughter's murder, I haven't the foggiest. It certainly wasn't the murder weapon. She was shot."

"Call it a hunch. I'm pretty good at those," he replied.

The woman sighed. "If you must take it, fine," she said.

"I need to ask you something. Do you believe in ghosts or anything of the sort?"

"What? No, of course not."

"Then why are there occult books in the study?"

She looked surprised. "Must be my husband's. Goodness knows, they're not mine."

Sam didn't think she was lying. "Okay. I'll take this back with me."

The oven timer buzzed. "I'm going to have to get that," Mrs. Anderson said.

"Right. Thanks," Sam said, and left.

The mirror was definitely magical. The husband knew something. Sam had to wonder how Officer Jeffries could have missed that with her telepathy. He suspected that the husband must have a way to block her somehow. He would have to interview the husband later.

He left the house, ducked into the woods, and teleported back to the police station. He chose an out-of-the-way corner behind a clump of trees at the edge of the parking lot so that no one would see him. Angel wings definitely came in handy, though he could do without the migraines.

Officer Jeffries was at her desk, working on a computer file when he came in.

"Any luck?" she asked.

Sam held up the mirror. "There's something weird about this. And I noticed a couple of occult books in the study, which was where I found the mirror."

"Oh?"

"I think the husband is hiding something. I also think that whatever it is, he's able to block your telepathy."

She looked surprised. "I haven't run into anyone who could other than the vampires, and the Andersons are definitely not vampires. Both have been seen in the daylight. I suppose the dragons could, but we've never had any that I know of."

He nodded. "What about the half-Elves?"

"Most of them are under a century old and were raised in America, so they do not know the lore of their ancestors. They know a few spells and charms taught to them by their parents. The older ones might have one or two magical family heirlooms that their parents gave them from the old country. I would suggest talking to Isabelle. She would know whom to ask about the mirror, if it is indeed magical."

"Thanks." He stood up to leave.

"Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Be careful. That mirror looks old. If we are indeed dealing with old magic, we could be dealing with some very dark powers."

"I can handle a few demons." _Demons would be a piece of cake compared to some of the stuff we've dealt with lately, _he thought.

Officer Jeffries shook her head. "I don't just mean demons. There are things far more dangerous than them, as you know."

Sam nodded. "Okay. I'll be careful."

He walked out of the building and snuck into the teleporting spot. But before he left, there was an angry squeak. He glanced down to see a pissed off little man with dark hair and wings, giving him the middle finger. The little…thing was wearing clothes made of leaves and moss.

"Uh sorry. I didn't see you."

"Of course not! You bumbling big people never see us! Go find someplace else to hide behind, you stupid half-witted….whatever you are."

Sam looked bemused. "Whatever I am?"

"Look, you're big, clumsy, and smell like fire. You're obviously not human, but I don't know what you are. I don't like you. Don't burn down my tree!"

"Your tree?"

"I'm a wood sprite, you moron! Now get out of here."

Sam backed away very quickly and bumped into a young Japanese woman, who looked startled. "Hey!" She was wearing a cleaning uniform. He guessed that she worked at the police station.

He sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm having a bad day."

"Yes, I see you managed to make the sprite angry. That is not good luck. He will tell the others about you. I suggest you go home before they start throwing acorns at you," she said.

"If only I could."

The woman looked at him. "Your home is not here?"

"No. It's very far away. Too far," he said.

"You are a strange one," she said. "You should go and see my mother."

Sam was beginning to wonder about this woman. "Your mother?"

"She is very powerful and wise. I think you should talk to her. Her name is Chikako."

"Really?"

The young woman nodded. "You can find her in the red house on Half Moon Lane."

"Okay. Thanks, Miss…"

"My mother named me Nashiyo. I was the first one in our family to be born here. I think you will like her."

"Thanks."

Sam walked away just as the sprite tossed an acorn in his direction. He heard the young woman scolding it in Japanese.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

A cherry red 1967 Chevy Impala pulled up to the drive through window. "Burger, large fries, and a large diet Coke," Dean ordered. On the seat beside him, the headline of the newspaper read "Mysterious 60-Foot Crater Appears in Small Florida Town; Meteor Blamed." On top of the newspaper sat his father's journal.

_Meteor my ass,_ Dean thought. That was the same town his father had investigated twenty-five years ago, that now had a string of mysterious murders. The events had to be connected somehow, and he was going to figure out how. His father had been looking for a wendigo and found it. The wendigo had gone to jail for murder and gotten the chair. But why were there murders now, and why the meteor? It was very strange that the meteor had appeared on the twenty-fifth anniversary of his father's arrival in the town.

If Sam was here, perhaps he would have seen it happening in his head. If wishes were dimes, Dean would be rich. He pulled up to the window and paid for his order in cash. He never used credit cards anymore. He didn't trust the government, not since Dean had been framed for a bank robbery he didn't commit. The shape shifter had taken his face and vanished. The cops assumed he had done it. He'd had to quit his job as a roofer. Carrie had left him and taken the baby. All hell had broken loose in Dean's life since Sam's death.

He drove away from the burger joint and back onto Highway 75. It was afternoon and the sun was shining rather brightly, but there were a few dark clouds in the distance. Smoke on the Water came on the radio. 40 miles left to go.

Sam approached the red house on Half Moon lane. It was made of bricks. There were white lace curtains on the windows and colorful tulips perfectly lined up in front of the house. He rang the doorbell. An elderly Japanese woman wearing a navy blue dress opened the door. She had a single pearl on a silver chain around her neck. "Hello?" Her eyes widened as she saw him. "Oni!" she gasped and made a move to shut the door.

"Wait," Sam said, only understanding the general gist of her reaction and not the specific word. "Your daughter sent me."

The woman looked surprised. "She is a fool, then."

"Please. My name is Sam. I'm trying to help the police solve the murders." He held up the mirror. "Can you tell me anything about this?"

"You are an evil spirit. I will tell you nothing." Chikako began to close the door again.

Sam put his foot in the door. "Wait, you don't understand."

"I understand more than you think."

"No," Sam said. He glanced around quickly to make sure that no one was watching. His red wings shimmered into view. "I'm not what you think. I'm not an evil spirit."

Her eyes widened again. "How is this possible? Your aura is fire. Just fire. How can you have wings of a _tenshi_? Why do you come here?"

He was trying to figure out how much English she understood. Clearly she understood enough to get by. "Magic," he said. "It was accidental, I think, but hard to know for sure. I'm stuck here."

She relented. "Don't make me regret this." She took a step backward and opened the door. "Come in."

Sam's wings vanished as he stepped in. Was she a psychic human, or something else? The house was decorated with a mish-mash of Japanese art and American culture from the 1960's. A painting of Marilyn Monroe was placed over the sofa in the living room, and a collage of Beetles album covers decorated the far wall. A painting of a dragon and phoenix hung on the opposite wall, as well as a few colorful fans.

"Thank you," he said.

"My daughter has good instincts normally, but she is still young. Let me see your mirror."

He held it out, and she took it.

Chikako studied it for a few moments, turning it over and examining the back. "This is very old. At least 200 years, perhaps more."

"Is it magical?"

"No, but it is a valuable antique. This was used in a ritual. It has the sort of aura that powerful magic gives off, yet the magic does not come from within the mirror itself."

"What sort of rituals would use mirrors?" he asked.

"A beauty spell or scrying, perhaps, but you already know that, don't you?" she inquired.

He nodded.

"It might have been used in a curse, but it is not broken," she said.

"What about summoning?"

"Ah…now that is a possibility. There are not many creatures that can be summoned with a mirror," Chikako explained.

"Can you tell me what can?" he asked.

"Hmm, let me think. There are some ghosts that can be summoned that way. Also, there are djinn."

"What, like in I Dream of Jeannie?" he inquired.

She gave him a _look._ "Hollywood does not do justice to them. They are not just some creatures that can be summoned from a lamp to grant three wishes. No, there are many more kinds of djinn. Fire djinn, water djinn, shape shifting djinn…"

"Shape shifting?" Sam asked.

"Yes. They are usually tricksters," she replied.

"Can they be controlled?"

"Only by a very powerful magician," Chikako answered. "Think of trying to control Loki."

Sam nodded. "I've met him. Well, sort of."

"You are certainly not what you seem. This is not the only reason why you are here, is it?" she asked.

"No. I need a way to get back home," he said.

She looked thoughtful. "Crossing between the worlds takes very powerful magic. I have only done it once, to flee my homeland with my baby daughter. I had to leave my human husband behind. You see, I am _kitsune_."

Sam's jaw dropped. He had heard the legends as a hunter, but never had met one. If she had that kind of power, she must be very old indeed.

"Now you understand," she said. "Good. You have great power, Sam. I could help you learn how to use it better."

"I just want to go home," he responded.

"Do you?" She peered into his eyes. "You are beginning to like it here, aren't you?"

"Maybe, but my place is home, with my brother."

"Is he like you?" she asked.

"No. He's human. I can't stay in this world very long, anyway. The other me is dead here."

She nodded. "All right. Find the killer, and I will send you home."

Dean parked the cherry red Impala at a small hotel. It was old and painted pink, but the price was right, only $25 a night. He seriously hoped there weren't any lice in the beds. There was something odd about the front desk clerk, he noticed right away. Not only was she wearing sunglasses indoors, but she dressed much older than she appeared. Also, she had slightly pointed ears. He figured she was a supe of some kind, but was she the kind that would kill him?

"Hello, I'm looking for a room." He handed her cash.

"Of course," she said with a soft European accent. He could not identify the country. "You may have room 212, right next to the other gentleman who arrived here early this morning."

"Oh?"

"Yes. It is a little unusual for us to have so many out of town guests," she said.

Something was niggling at Dean. "What did he look like?"

"He was very tall with dark hair and an extremely torn up T-shirt. There were a few scars on his back. He also looked young, perhaps in his late 20's. Why do you ask?"

"Just wondering," Dean said.

"Please sign here," said the woman, handing him the book.

Sure enough, on the top line, was the name Sam Winchester. Dean's eyes widened. No, it couldn't be. Could it? How was that even possible?

"Is everything all right?" the woman asked.

"Uh…yeah." Dean signed the book hastily and handed it back.

"Winchester? Are you related?"

He gave a nervous laugh. "I don't think so. My brother's dead."

The woman raised an eyebrow. "I see. This way, please." She led him up the stairs.

Sam teleported away from the kitsune's house and back to the hotel room. Angelic powers had their benefits. As he stood next to the bed, something outside caught his eye. He peered out the window. There was a 1967 cherry red Impala in the parking lot. Could it be? Yes, it was. He would know that car anywhere, in any universe, with any paint job. Dean was here, and that wasn't a good thing.

There were footsteps in the hallway. Sam froze.

"Right this way, sir," Isabelle said.

"Thanks," Sam heard Dean say.

The door next to his opened and closed. Isabelle walked down the stairs. A few minutes later, there was a knock on his door.

"Sam? Sammy, is that really you in there? Please, I just want to talk to you again."

Swallowing his trepidation, Sam walked to the door and opened it. Dean's jaw dropped.

"My God, it is you. How is this possible? Are you a vampire or something?"

"Listen to me," Sam began. "I am not your Sam."

Dean stared. "What?"

"This sounds extremely crazy, but I am Sam Winchester. I'm just from another universe."

Dean shook his head. "I don't care. You're alive and you're Sam. That's all I care about."

"Dean…I can't stay here. I have to go back there. You don't understand. We were fighting these huge…evil bad things…leviathans."

"I don't even know what those are."

"Do you even hunt in this universe?" Sam asked.

"Yes."

"Okay. Leviathans are bad ass. They're ancient. They're older than God. He couldn't kill them, so Purgatory was created to trap them. This friend of ours, an angel, let them out."

"Wait, angels exist?"

Sam nodded. "Cas is sort of fallen, but he's on our side. Anyway, he let them out because he had this crazy plan to become God, but he completely failed at it and the Leviathans escaped. We wound up having to clean up the mess. Somehow in the process of cleaning up the mess, we found the real God, and well…it's kind of a long story."

Dean held up his hand. "We did kick the Leviathans' asses, right?"

"Yeah. You had the lightning bolt of Zeus, and Cas had the Orb of Seven Stars, and I…hmmm…this might not be the best time to tell you."

"Tell me what?"

The air around Sam shimmered and his red wings materialized. "I'm not exactly human anymore, Dean. I have powers."

Dean took a step back. "Woah. How…?"

"Let's just say Chuck did a little creative writing."

"Who's Chuck?" Dean asked.

"Never mind," Sam said.

"Are you an angel? Did you die?" Dean asked.

"Partly, and yes, but that's not how I became…this. You and I have both died, more than once, apparently. But we keep being brought back," Sam explained.

"I don't remember dying."

"I'm guessing you haven't been to Hell yet?" Sam inquired.

"We stopped the apocalypse, but your psychic powers were increasing, even though we killed that yellow-eyed bastard. You couldn't take seeing dead people anymore. That's why you shot yourself. Missouri tried to help you, but even she couldn't. Your abilities were too strong for her to shield you."

Sam shook his head. "I'm sorry the other me did that. In my world, stopping the demon ended the visions. But then I found out I was still supposed to have abilities, it's just that they were dormant. See, God decided to mess with my DNA. I'm a guinea pig."

"You said you were part angel," Dean noted. "Why are your wings red?"

"I'm not entirely sure. I think it might be…and please don't freak out on me here...because I'm also part demon."

Dean's eyes widened. "No way."

"Yeah. It's a little, uh…freaky even for me."

"So…did you ever find out why?"

"Why what?"

"Why he did that to you?"

"Oh. Well, Chuck wants me to be a sort of go-between. He doesn't think that anyone else can do it, and I already had the demon blood in me from Azazel. So, he decided to take advantage of the situation."

Dean shook his head. "Who's Chuck?"

"Chuck is God's human vessel."

"So, how exactly did you wind up here?" Dean asked.

"Backlash from the angelic weapon Cas used to send the Leviathans back to Purgatory," Sam said.

"Ah. That would explain the crater."

"Yep. Oh, did you know our dad stayed in this room?"

"Really?" Dean inquired.

Sam nodded and showed him the briefcase. "He was investigating a murder 25 years ago. I think it's connected to the murders happening now. I'm working with the cops to try and solve them. Oh…you're not going to like this town very much."

"Why is that?"

"It's sort of a haven for supes."

Dean looked stunned. "What kinds?"

"Relax, Dean. They have pretty strict rules around here. The vamps are the Twilight vegetarian sort, and the weres only hunt deer. Oh, and there are a few other different kinds of supes around here. Anyone who harms a human gets banished from the town and is no longer protected."

"What about the murders? Doesn't anyone care about those?"

"It's been all supes who have died, except for one human little girl," Sam replied. "I'm helping the cops try and figure out who did it. I think it was the new people." Sam held up the silver mirror. "I have it on good authority this was used in a ritual. Yet the new people are human. This was the husband's grandmother's mirror."

"Do you think we're dealing with people dabbling in things they shouldn't?" Dean asked.

Sam nodded. "I noticed a few occult books on their shelves. The wife said she hadn't noticed them. If she's lying, she's doing a very good job."

"We should go back there," Dean said.

"Okay," Sam replied. He put the mirror into his backpack, then put his hand on Dean's shoulder. "Ready?"

"For what?" Dean asked.

"There are a few good things to being part angel," Sam replied, and teleported.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Dean could hear wings flapping, but he could not see anything other than haze. As they arrived, the world dissolved into view again. There was a car in the driveway this time, a silver Toyota.

"Woah…that was…"

"What?" Sam asked.

"Weird as hell," Dean replied.

Sam shook his head. "Trust me, hell isn't weird. Just painful."

Dean looked at him. "No way."

"Way."

"I was there, you know…before the other you died. Why'd you go?" Dean asked.

"I went down to trap Lucifer. I was there for about a year real time," Sam said.

"And you remember?"

"Yeah, but I wasn't really supposed to. So the other me didn't trap Lucifer?"

Dean blinked. "No, that was Dad. He went down and never came back."

"Wait…he didn't get killed by Azazel?"

"No. He was Lucifer's vessel."

Sam looked stunned. "That was supposed to be me. Why else do you think Azazel fed me demon's blood the night he killed Mom?"

"Yeah, well, try telling that to Dad. We tried to stop him, and he wouldn't take no for an answer."

Sam sighed. "That sounds like him."

He approached the door of the house and rang the doorbell. After a minute, he looked at Dean. "That's weird." He tested the doorknob. It was unlocked. "Hello, anyone home?"

There were no sounds for a few moments. Then, the Winchester brothers heard a woman scream.

Sam ran in, followed by Dean. "Upstairs," he said, after hearing a second scream.

The two men headed upstairs. The screams were coming from the bedroom. Sam opened the door, and Dean held up a Colt 45. They saw Mrs. Anderson backed up against the wall, and a huge dog with black fur and red eyes growling at her.

"What is that, some weird type of hell hound?" Dean wondered aloud.

"No, it's a djinn," Sam replied. "The mirror was probably used to summon it."

"Oh crap," Dean said.

"Help," Mrs. Anderson shouted.

"Who summoned this thing?" Sam asked.

"I think my husband did. He's not here and he's not answering his phone. Please, help me."

Dean fired off a shot, but the dog lunged at him with gleaming white fangs. The bullet hit the wall. Sam telekinetically pushed the dog back. It hit the bookshelf, causing many books to fall on top of it. The dog shook them off and growled.

"Um…is there any way we can unsummon it?" Dean asked.

"I've got the mirror, but I don't know what spell was used," Sam replied.

"Awesome." Dean fired off another shot. This one hit the dog, but it shrugged off the bullet. "Got any holy water?" He asked.

"Not on me. Actually I haven't really carried since the uh, change."

The dog charged again. Sam telekinetically shoved it to the side, and Dean fired off another round. The dog whimpered. The air around it grew hazy. Slowly, the dog faded away and the true form of the djinn materialized. It looked humanoid, but that was the end of the resemblance. Its skin was green and wrinkled, and it had horns protruding from its forehead. Slimy yellow goo was dripping from the chest where Dean had shot him.

"Oh, my…" Mrs. Anderson gasped.

"I think we need to find your husband," Dean said. "What's his cell phone number?"

Mrs. Anderson rattled it off. Dean punched it into his phone and hit send.

"I hear something," Sam said.

Dean looked at him. "You have super hearing now, too? What about X-ray vision? Super strength?"

"Very funny, Dean. It's coming from downstairs."

"All right, time to play find the cell phone. Come on, Sam."

The two brothers went downstairs. Dean dialed again. "I hear it now," he said as they reached the bottom of the stairs.

In the kitchen, they found a middle-aged man with a receding hairline wearing a tweed jacket and blue jeans face down on the linoleum floor. There was a pool of blood beneath him.

"Oh crap," Dean said.

Mrs. Anderson must have followed them, because she gasped. "Dan!"

Sam brought up his cell phone and called the police station.

"Jeffries," she said as she answered.

"Hey. I'm at the Andersons. Got a body downstairs. It's Mr. Anderson."

"All right. What did you find out?"

"It was a djinn," Sam replied.

"Seriously?" Officer Jeffries asked.

"Yeah. We think the husband summoned it. He must have lost control and it killed him. The djinn is dead too. It was going to kill Mrs. Anderson," Sam said.

"We?" Officer Jeffries inquired.

"Uh, yeah. My brother's here. Well, my _other_ brother."

"Oh…all right, stay put. We'll be there soon."

Sam put his cell phone in his pocket. "The police are coming."

Mrs. Anderson was leaning against the wall and sobbing.

"Is there any particular reason your husband would have summoned a djinn?" Dean asked.

She looked up with teary eyes. "He said when he was young, his parents were murdered. The police found them drained of blood. They blamed it on a Satanic cult. The case went unsolved."

"Vamps," Dean said.

Sam nodded. "If your husband was dabbling in magic, then he would have found out that vampires were real."

Mrs. Anderson didn't look as shocked as he expected, but given the turn of events, it probably wasn't too surprising. "What else is real?"

"Werewolves, ghosts, demons, angels…pretty much everything that goes bump in the night," Dean said.

She nodded tearfully. "I guess it seems so obvious now. I just never knew…"

"Most people don't," Sam said. "There's a reason people are kept in the dark about all of this."

"What about you?" she asked. "You have…powers."

Sam sighed. "I'm just a freak of nature. I shouldn't even exist. I'm not even from this universe."

"Really?" she asked.

"It's kind of a long story. My other brother and I were fighting these things and there was a magic backlash and I ended up here."

"Maybe this is the reason why you were sent here," she said.

Sam shrugged. "Maybe."

The sound of police sirens wailing outside grabbed their attention.

"Come on," Sam said.

Dean shrank back a little.

"What? Don't tell me they think you robbed a bank here?"

Dean shook his head. "No, but…let's just say cops and me don't get along."

"Too bad," Sam said. "The other you is an FBI agent. So am I. It's…"

"A long story?" Dean finished.

Sam nodded.

Meanwhile, Castiel stared at the bowl of steaming hot liquid that Dean had given him.

"It's tomato-rice soup, Cas. You need to eat something to get your strength back."

The angel sighed. "Fine." He took a tentative bite of the soup.

Agents Smith and Daniels exchanged glances. "Any word on Sam?"

"No. I think Cas is right," Dean said. "He would have called by now if he was anywhere here, and someone would have found his body by now if he had been killed. It would be plastered all over the news. So, we wait."

The newspaper by the bed was dated one week after the Leviathans had been killed. The headline read "Sam Winchester Still Missing."

"He will come back, Dean," Cas said, looking up from the bowl of tomato-rice soup.

"I know he will," Dean replied.

Later that evening, Sam and Dean were sitting at the Silver Bullet.

"I heard what you did," Murray said. He was carrying two beers. "On the house."

Sam looked up. "Thanks."

Murray's eyes narrowed as he looked at Dean. "Hunter?"

"How'd you know?" Dean asked.

"You smell like one. And I knew your father."

"No way."

"Yeah. He got into it with my old pack one night during a full moon. They couldn't control themselves. I saved his ass from three guys who were twice my size in wolf form. He let me go, and I wound up here."

Sam blinked. "Wow. I wonder if that was why he was here twenty-five years ago."

"No. Your father was trying to solve that murder. It got blamed on some poor kid. I helped him find the real killer. It was a were tiger. He was banished, but left before your father could kill him," Murray explained.

"Who was Hilda?" Sam asked.

"Hilda was the were tiger's wife. She still lives here. We keep an eye on her. She has better control than he ever did," Murray said.

"Thank you for saving our Dad," Sam replied.

Murray nodded. "I think he knew who I was when he came here. So, are you going to stay for a while? We could sure use you around here."

"I actually might have a ticket home. But I might check out this place in my universe," Sam said.

"Well, tell the other me I said you could have a drink when you get there. Here," Murray said. He took off the silver bullet necklace. "If I give you this, he'll believe you."

"Thanks," Sam replied.

"So," Dean said after Murray walked away, "you have a ticket home?"

"Yeah. There's a kitsune in town."

"Oh, man."

"She's really ancient. I think she can pull it off."

"Be careful," Dean warned. "Don't trust them too much. I've heard stories."

Sam nodded. "I can take care of myself."

"I know you're not my Sam, but you're still _a Sam_. Okay?"

"Okay."

After they had finished the beer, Sam put his hand on Dean's shoulder. "Ready?"

Dean nodded.

The world faded away and appeared again. They were standing in front of the red house on Half Moon lane. Sam rang the doorbell.

This time, Nashiyo opened the door. "Sam!" She smiled. "I heard you got rid of the evil sorcerer who had summoned the djinn."

"I don't think he was an actual sorcerer, per say, but…yeah, he's dead. The djinn killed him," Sam said.

"Not a sorcerer?" she asked.

"More like a dabbler," Dean said.

"His parents were killed by vampires, so he wanted revenge and summoned the djinn, but he couldn't control it," Sam said.

"Ohhh…that explains it. My mother is still awake. Come in, both of you."

The older woman approached them from the kitchen. "Hello. Who is this?"

"This is my…other brother, Dean," Sam said.

Chikako nodded. "I see. All right. You fulfilled your end of the bargain, so I will take you home."

"Wait," Dean said. "Sam, knowing you're okay somewhere else is awesome, but I'm still going to miss you like crazy."

"Yeah. Take care."

The two brothers hugged.

"Damn it," Dean said. "Now I have to say goodbye to you twice."

"Don't say goodbye," Sam said. "Say hello."

Dean nodded. "Yeah. Oh, give this to the other me." He took a folded-up note out of his pocket.

"What's this?"

"A little advice I have for myself."

"Will do."

"Are you ready?" asked the older woman.

"Yeah," Sam said.

She began to chant in a language that neither Sam nor Dean had heard before. Her form shimmered and on the floor there stood a red fox with eight tales, and a pearl necklace around its neck. The pearl glowed brightly, and then Sam saw his surroundings disappear.

As New York City emerged into view, Sam's cell phone rang. He grabbed it. Dean was calling. Around him, people were stopping to stare.

"Dean?"

"Sam, thank Chuck! We've been looking all over for you for a week now."

"A week? Holy crap."

"Yeah. Where the heck were you?"

"Dean, I was in this other universe. There was another you, and the other me was dead there. Where are you?"

"Holed up in this hotel with Cas."

"Cas? What happened to him?"

"He used up too much juice on the orb." Dean gave him the location of the hotel.

"I'll be there in a few," Sam said.

"Oh my," said a woman. "Everyone's looking for you."

"Yeah, I know. I gotta run."

"Isn't that…?" he heard someone say in shock as he took off running.

The hotel was, luckily, less than a mile away. Out of breath, Sam stopped on the steps leading up to it. "Dean?"

"Sam!" Dean had come downstairs. The brothers hugged. "Don't ever do that to me again," Dean said.

"Oh, I almost forgot. The other you gave me this." Sam held up the note and handed it to him.

Dean unfolded it. He did not read it aloud.

"Watch out for Sam. Don't forget to have some fun along the way. Oh, and stay away from Lisa. –D."

"Guess the other me learned the same lesson," he said.

"What?"

"He warned me about Lisa."

"Ah. Anything else?"

Dean shrugged. "Said to stay out of trouble and have fun. Come on, you should see Cas."

In the hotel room, the TV was on. Cas was watching "I Dream of Jeannie."

"Welcome back," Agent Daniels said as the two brothers walked in.

"I am glad to see you," Cas said.

"You're going to have to fill me in on this alternate universe," Dean said. He pointed to the silver bullet Sam was wearing around his neck. "Where'd you get that from?"

"A werewolf named Murray, who somehow saved our other Dad's life."

"Huh. So what happened?" Dean asked.

In the other universe, a dark-haired man walked into a bar called the silver bullet on the night of a waning moon. Murray glanced up from the bar he was cleaning.

"Haven't seen you in a long time."

"Hello, Murray," John said.

"The usual?"

"Yeah."

"You won't believe who was here the other week." Murray set the whiskey down. "You might want to tell your son that you're still around."

"I'll think about it."

John sipped the whiskey slowly. Somewhere outside, a wolf howled.

The End


End file.
